


Steam Powered Clock

by AuthorLoremIpsum



Series: Lodger Stories [6]
Category: The Glass Scientists (Webcomic)
Genre: Comfort, Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Science shenanigans, all fluff, one hundred percent organic fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 12:57:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13975626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorLoremIpsum/pseuds/AuthorLoremIpsum
Summary: Amazing how a little teamwork can make you realize just how much you enjoy a friend's company.It's even more amazing how friendship can evolve.





	Steam Powered Clock

The pressure was set, the boiler ready, the dials calibrated and clear, all that remained was to add the fuel. Pennebrygg, who sat cross legged inside the chest of a twelve foot tall, rotund automata with a steam engine in its gut, paused his work to wipe the sweat from his brow. He pushed his eyeglass out of the way and rubbed his eye tiredly, only to scowl as he realized he was smearing grease all over his face. Grumbling in disgust, he pulled the gloves from his hands and dragged them down his face, attempting some sort of cleanliness.

Elsewhere in the laboratory, more like the workshop of a strange blacksmith, sparking and searing could be heard. Sinnett was still hard at work with his half of the job, which was simply coating the great machine in steel. It wasn’t a humanoid machine, a brave endeavor, especially for something so large, but instead bore three gyroscopic legs and three powerful arms that, when powered, would carry other automata as directed.

The engine that powered it was to be revolutionary.

Supposedly, if their plan worked out, the engine would be able to use phlogiston as opposed to coal as a source of heat energy, with a byproduct of oxygen and little to no ash when the reaction completed. Additionally, phlogiston- as Sinnett had shown- could be siphoned from anything flammable, thus creating an infinitely more renewable resource than coal, oil, or wood.

    Pennebrygg had approached Sinnett about it, he needed a steam engine, but one that would be small enough to fit in the chest cavity, and anything that could hold a burning mass of coal was far too large for an automata. But phlogiston, he reasoned, was just as hot, concentrated, and much smaller than a coal or wood engine. Sinnett, for all his shyness, positively lit up at the idea, helping to design an engine capable of not only channelling the phlogiston, but safely containing the reaction, which would be a first.

    And then he just sort of, stuck around.

    On one hand he was offering Pennebrygg some much needed help help, on the other hand, he was also getting testing out his phlogiston-powered dual-spout blow torch and its reaction to steel and iron. Both of them were making progress, and it felt great.

    Yet, Pennebrygg needed to pause before they continued their work, for he needed a moment to think.

    He had to really consider now, why was it he enjoyed working with Sinnett so much? Sure, they were making fantastic progress in tandem, but it was something else.

    He hadn’t noticed really, since he and Sinnett didn’t talk all that much- a surprise considering their semi-mutual interest in building metal tools- but he found the ginger rather intriguing and a wonderful conversationalist. Though he had a tendency to apologize when going overboard and blush brightly when complimented, Sinnett was a genius in his own right and watching him work was something of a marvel. He knew how fire behaved like no one else in the Society, perhaps in all of London, and it was almost as if he could bend the alchemical element to his will when the time called for it.

    Not to mention how his eyes sparkled when he was in deep thought, or how his hair glowed when silhouetted by firelight- well that was a whole other mess.

    And then there was his  _ arm. _

    That had started the fascination, if Pennebrygg was actually honest with himself. He’d helped build the device shortly after Sinnett’s arrival at the Societ, and ever since then, Sinnett’s grateful smile had shone in his mind during dark times, a beacon of honest good in Rogue Science.

    Not to mention, quite a bit of an upgrade, trauma aside.

    Pennebrygg shook his head vigorously to banish the pyrologist-focused thoughts from his mind, it was neither the time nor the place to be seriously considering his relationship and friendship with Sinnett when they had such work to do. They were nearly finished, as soon as the last plates were soldered on, they could start the automata.

    He leaned out of the chest, “Hey Sinnett!”

    No answer, Pennebrygg frowned and flicked his eyepiece down.

“ANTHONY!”

Sinnett paused his soldering, wiping his goggles free of soot before looking down from the automaton shoulder he was sitting on, fusing the metal between two riveted plates. Pennebrygg, hanging out of the chest now, called up to him: “You about finished up there?”

“Just about, why?” the pyrologist called, pushing up one half of his goggles so he could properly look down.

“Engine’s right and ready for testing! You get that plate on and we can see if your fire-in-a-bottle stuff really works!” Pennebrygg said, hopping out. Sinnett grinned excitedly, his green eyes sparkling, “I’ll finish right up then! Wait for me.”

Quickly, perhaps too quickly, he soldered the last two steel plates together and turned off the blowtorch. He placed it onto a little hanging trolley and safely lowered it down, so Pennebrygg could move it out of the way into a nearby. Pennebrygg turned his back, being extra careful with the experimental blowtorch, all too aware of the incredibly flammable liquid sloshing around in the tank. Behind, Sinnett attempted to climb down.

And succeeded in slipping and crashing onto a trolley that toppled over, dumping a toolbox on his head after he’d already slammed into the ground. In a second, Pennebrygg was at his side, heart pounding, “Sinnett?? Anthony?? What happened!?”

“I fell,” he deadpanned, lying flat on the ground, the wooden toolbox still lying on his face. “My back hurts.”

“Can you move?” Pennebrygg asked worriedly, cleaning his friend free of tools and helping him sit up. Sinnett groaned, putting a hand to his back like an old man, “Yeah, yeah I can move, I’m just sore.”

“Well, you best take a seat while I start the machine then, can’t have you hurting yourself worse,” Pennebrygg said, helping Sinnett to his feet. The pyrologist let his goggles hang around his neck and kept his good hand to his temple as he was guided over to a stool and ordered to sit. 

Dissatisfied with letting his friend be, Pennebrygg set his gloves aside and gently began to prod Sinnett’s scalp, feeling for swelling or cuts, of which he found one on the back of his friend’s head. “You best take it easy, you took one hell of a fall.”

“My head is throbbing,” Sinnett admitted, rubbing his eyes tiredly and resting his hand in the cool palm of his prosthesis. He groaned when Pennebrygg tapped his forehead, “Hey, no falling asleep, you’ve still got to tell me how to put your liquid fire into the engine.”

He nodded tiredly and sat up, for a second their eyes met. Penebrygg felt a warmth fill his chest, it made him smile. “Come on, you’re not just going to sit by and let me get all the credit are you?”

Sinnett blinked those big green eyes of his and smiled, “No, I’m not, I wouldn’t miss it for ten falls like that.”

“I, don’t think that’s how that saying goes, but okay,” Pennebrygg laughed, patting Sinnett’s shoulder and moving to the crate that he’d brought in. 

It was maybe the size of a pair of shoes, and inside, nestled on a bed of soft fabric, was a bottle with a round bottom, full of a liquid that looked like molten metal and moved like water. Borrowing Sinnett’s thick, right-handed glove, Pennebrygg lifted it from the box and found himself staring, awestuck by the glowing amber fluid. 

“Careful Penny, that’s volatile stuff,” Sinnett warned, leaning on the desk from his stool. “Once you take out the cork, you ought to put it in as fast as you can, before it starts combusting with air.”

“We both know it’s not combustion,” Pennebrygg chuckled, moving to stand before their creation. There was a hole the size of the bottle in the center of the engine and a door to slide over it. Clumsily, Pennebrygg uncorked the bottle, placed it in the opening, and slid the metal door over it. He flipped a switch, heard the hiss of steam, and backed away, closing the chest of the automata.

He knew that the engine would work, he knew that the automaton would follow its single instruction to lift the box on its left to the right, and he knew that all it needed was power. With swelling pride, he let out a laugh as one of the massive arms began to turn, lowering to scoop up the crate and shift it to the other side, rotating that the next arm might do the same to the crate beneath it. 

But, then it didn’t stop, and it was speeding up. Sinnett didn’t seem to notice, his head was bobbing with sleep where he sat at the desk, and he groaned when Pennebrygg dragged him to his feet. “We have to go, we have to go right now mate, we messed up.”

“What’d we do?” he asked blearily, blinking and looking around. A crate came flying and smashed beside them, the rush of adrenaline made Sinnett jump and his eyes snapped open. “OH THAT!”

Pennebrygg grabbed his friend by the hand and dragged him towards the emergency fire exit. Well, actually, it was a refurbished observatory with a hatch onto the roof that Pennebrygg usually opened to air out the lab of smoke before the rest of the Society blamed Luckett or Sinnett for the fire. It also proved an easy out if something happened to, start working and not stop. 

He practically shoved Sinnett up the ladder as yet another crate came crashing behind them. Pennebrygg thanked Dr. Jekyll silently for forcing him to store his supplies in a lab downstairs while letting him take everyone’s empty boxes for weights, there would only be a thousand wood splinters to clean up instead of splinters and gears. 

The two tumbled out onto the roof and the commotion of the automaton below, laying there a moment to catch their breath before peering down the observatory ladder to the workshop below. The good news was that it had run out of boxes to throw, the bad news was that it was spinning out of control creating a deadly whirlwind of very long metal arms tipped with claws that’d slice both men in half if they tried to leave.

“Maybe it’ll run out of fuel soon?” Penebrygg offered weakly, smiling sheepishly. Sinnett looked somber, “No it uh, that bottle’s going to last it a good few hours… Sorry.”

“It, should run out of water in an hour or so though,” he offered a more confident smile, “We’ll just wait it out!”

“If you say so,” Sinnett said, cracking a small smile, reaching back to rub his head. Pennebrygg pouted and scoot over, “Here, let me see again.”

Sinnett turned his back and let his friend search through his hair again. “Yeah, you’ve got a nasty cut back there, but nothing a good bath won’t clean off. Just…” Pennebrygg pulled the last clean kerchief from his pocket and folded it, pressed, against the spot, showing Sinnett where to hold it. “There you go!”

The pyrologist pouted, but did as he was told, leaning back against the metal of the observatory to rest. Pennebrygg stood and moved to sit beside him, leaning back as well, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Why did simply being up here with Sinnett feel so nice? Even after they’d royally miscalculated something so critical?

“I, hadn’t expected it to be so, powered, by the uh, phlogiston, sorry,” Sinnett said after a long while, looking away in shame. “I mean, I should’ve been more careful with the stuff, it’s so dangerous after all.” He removed his hand from his cut, moving instead to massage his arm above where the metal connected to flesh.

Pennebrygg frowned, how dare he think it was his fault? Like he could’ve even known! They were only using the first phlogiston powered steam engine  _ ever.  _ For him to think it was all his fault things had gone south, why, it was ridiculous!

“Come off it, it wasn’t your fault, I made the thing too powerful!” Pennebrygg said, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Had I known just how much oomph your fire-in-a-bottle was going to give, I’d have made it a bit bigger.”

“How do you mean?” asked Sinnett, tilting his head in an adorable manner like a curious puppy. 

    Pennebrygg blinked away his stun, honestly surprised by how such a small gesture could be so telling and so sweet, then shrugged. “A steam engine is only as strong as its fuel is hot. Had I known that stuff was like a whole ton of coal, I’d have asked for a smaller bottle or built a bigger machine.” He put a hand to his chin in thought, “Then again, that means such an engine can power something bigger… Maybe if we bring Tweedy in on this, we could make something massive!” His eyes lit up as new idea began to fill his mind, “Perhaps, something one could ride in, or maybe even fly in! Some sort of flying device!”

    In his excitement, he didn’t notice that it was Sinnett’s turn to stare.

    They’d worked all through the day, it was late afternoon by now, and they sat with their backs to the south, meaning the setting sun was just behind Pennebrygg’s head as he gushed about the possibilities of small steam engines with so much power. His dark eyes lit up, his crooked smile grew wider with each new idea and he gestured grandly with both hands, occasionally pausing to push his curls out of the way. He was silhouetted by the sun, covered with soot and grease, but Sinnett could feel his heart pounding.

    “Imagine flying faster than Bryson’s balloon!” he was saying, pulling off his eye glass so he could look Sinnett in the eye properly. “Just, nothing to hold you back except the wind and the power of your engine! Or towering over the streets in a massive steel horse that chugs like a train! Or better yet, trains themselves that rocket faster than anything!”

    “It’d be incredible,” Sinnett said, smiling dreamily. He blinked and forced himself out of the daydream of travelling with Pennebrygg, “That is, if the engines can even hold up. W-we don’t even know if our engine is going to hold up to the phlogiston it’s carrying now! I might burn all our work with-”

    He froze when Pennebrygg placed a finger over his lips, making him shut up. 

    “It won’t be your fault if everything burns,” he said, pulling his hand back a bit. “You’re brilliant Sinnett, you need to stop thinking every little thing you do is a mistake.”

Sinnett would have replied, if his brain hadn’t stopped working the second they touched. Without thinking, he reached up and took Pennebrygg’s hand, making the other man blink in surprise. But, he didn’t pull away, perhaps that was a good sign.

    He tried to say something, lifting his hand to gesture, when the sound of a snapping spring made them both visibly flinch. Sinnett’s metal hand went limp and he pouted, “Oh for Pete’s sake, not now!”

    “Must’ve come loose in the fall,” Pennebrygg remarked, staring at Sinnett as he moved to inspect the device.

    “It sounded like the wrist coil,” he mumbled, finding a familiar switch to disconnect the limb and unlocking the casing with a click. Penebrygg scoot even closer, his side pressed into Sinnett’s shoulder as they both peered in at the clockwork. Neither spoke much as Sinnett attempted to realign the coil before sighing in defeat and passing it to Pennebrygg. Still, the removed clockwork limb rested between them, half on Sinnett’s leg, half on Pennebrygg’s.

    And only after they’d been quietly working to fix it for a minute did both realize how close they were.

    And that they wanted to be closer.

    Swallowing hard and trying to be subtle about it, Pennebrygg clicked the spring and gears back into place and shut the casing. “W-Well, at least it wasn’t something we couldn’t fix aye?”

    “Yeah.” 

    They looked up at each other, eyes meeting for a split second before both blushed visibly and attempted to put some space between them. Sinnett quickly reattached his arm, tested it, and promptly buried his burning cheeks. Pennebrygg chose the subtler method of looking away and whistling nonchalantly, arms folded defensively over his chest.

    After a long moment, Sinnett apologized,  _ again. _ “Pennebrygg,  _ Walter,  _ I’m so so sorry I’m such a mess, I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

    Pennebrygg huffed, rolling his eyes and looking at Sinnett with a mild glare, “Anthony, there’s nothing wrong, you’re just flustered and, mildly concussed, it’s not that big of a deal.”

    “Y-yeah, I guess you’re right.” The rosy color returned to his cheeks and he looked away, “You’re too kind to me Pennebrygg.”

    “Oh please, you’re my friend, I love spending time with you, why wouldn’t I be kind to you?” He smiled genuinely, “I mean it, I’ve loved working with you these past few days, it’s been so much fun.”

    “Really?” Sinnett asked, sitting up a bit, smiling. “I mean, I’ve loved it too, just wish I d-”

    “Stop, don’t start that apologizing again, you’re  _ fine, _ ” Pennebrygg interrupted, giggling. Sinnett blinked, then laughed as well, the sound was enough to make Pennebrygg melt a bit, smiling dreamily.

    “You’re great, actually, positively fantastic,” he said before he could stop himself.

    This gave the pyrologist a reason to pause, and brought even more pink to his cheeks. “I, well, I think you’re rather wonderful too, I mean, I could listen to you talk all day.”

    Penebrygg scoot a little closer, forcing himself to gather his confidence. “That’s kind of you to say, Sinnett, you’re always so generous.”

    “Oh please.” Sinnett leaned closer too, pressing their shoulders together, undeniably flustered at this point. “You’re the kind one, you see past everyone’s flaws and point out exactly how great they can be, everyone’s confident with you around.”

    “Is that so?” he asked softly. Sinnett nodded. “Then, maybe I can be confident enough to tell you that, I think, I think I quite like you Anthony Sinnett. You’ve plum lit a fire in my heart and I sound like an idiot telling you but I got to say it anyway.”

    Sinnett blinked slowly, staring at his friend with a look of awe. Pennebrygg’s slightly flirty smile faltered and he sighed, mumbling: “Well now I’ve gone and done it.”

    To his surprise, however, Sinnett cupped his face and lifted it, pulling him close enough to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

    Pennebrygg felt his brain light up and his heart begin to race in surprise, but it wasn’t like the fluttering and sparking everyone always talked about. It just, felt good, felt  _ right _ . So, he let himself stop worrying, stop trying to be confident, and just closed his eyes, tilting his head to be the second half of the sweet moment.

    Like any good kiss though, it was over far too soon, and left both of them floating a bit, eyes fluttering open. They shared a look, and Sinnett giggled, covering his mouth to stifle the smile. But it was infectious, and Pennebrygg felt a giggle bubble up and out of his mouth as well, making him grin. It was impossible to fight, and they dissolved into laughter, leaning against each other with wide smiles.

    Eventually, once they were both out of breath, Sinnett managed to say: “S-sorry Walter. I, I couldn’t think of anything to say. I thought that, such a gesture, would be enough, you know?”

    Penebrygg hummed, tilting his head to lean on Sinnett’s shoulder, “I don’t mind, why, I would’ve liked to do the same thing anyway. I assume what you did means you, agree with what I said to you?” 

    Sinnett turned his head so could look Pennebrygg in the eye and show a real smile, “Yeah, yeah it does. I think you’re wonderful. I-I’m still, getting used to this whole idea of loving another man, but you make it easy.”

    “Why? Because I’m so ladylike?” Pennebrygg teased, giggling until he felt a soft hand on his chest.

    “No, because you’re simply an easy person to love,” Sinnett said softly.

    “Ah, I think I get it. If you’d be alright with it, may I kiss you again?” He asked this while taking Sinnetts hand, his human one, and lacing their fingers together.

    “I think I’d like that.”

    Pennebrygg hesitated, internally bolstered his courage, and leaned closer to kiss his crush.

    This second kiss lasted a lot longer, and the sun had long since set when Luckett came looking for them up on the roof, asking about the crashing that had fallen silent in the lab below.


End file.
